


We 2 - 1: Only Leaving Me

by KinkyKoala, Smile_More



Series: We Are 1 [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work, omegaverse - Fandom
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving, Moving Away, Pack, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Protective Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkyKoala/pseuds/KinkyKoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smile_More/pseuds/Smile_More
Summary: Elliot and Rowan are a couple of peas in a pod, a small couple with big ideas for their pack. Unfortunately, fate has other ideas.A stand-alone one-shot that can either be read by itself before We 3 + 1 or before or after chapter 15 of We 3 + 1.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: We Are 1 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759534
Kudos: 9





	We 2 - 1: Only Leaving Me

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be the first of many addition to the We Are 1 series, a fact that makes us both very excited!

We 2 - 1

“Rowan!” I screech, running across the playground. “I was looking for you.”

“Eli, hey.” He replies, smiling broadly, revealing the shiny metal train tracks on his teeth. He sits on the bench next to me, opening his space themed lunchbox, an astronaut floating through space, kicking the moon like it’s a football. I take out my salad, carrot sticks and granola bar, staring enviously at Rowan’s treat filled meal.

He hands me one of his two chocolate bars and a packet of pom bears; his mum always packs an extra for me.

“Thanks, Rowan.” I say, smiling at him, “You’re the best.”

“I know!” He says, smiling smugly, still genuine in his joy.

After we finish eating, he takes my hand and leads me around onto the field, towards the rusty old swing set around the back. He takes a seat swinging his legs gently, not enough to actually start swinging but enough that his legs don’t have to touch the ground which he can’t seem to take his eyes off of. There’s something really on his mind, I can tell. I stare him down, waiting for him to talk to me, to his best friend.

“You know I always want to remain part of the little pack we’ve made, right?” He flicks his eyes up off the ground and then continues. “Just us two.” He breathes in, as if bracing for impact, “My dad got a new job and we’re going to move.”

I stop, what does he mean away?

“Like down the street?” I ask.

He puts his hand on my knee, “No Eli, like hours away. Far enough that I have to move schools.”

My eyes widen in shock, a terrible feeling wells up inside me and spills over, causing tears to flow. “Like I’m never going to see you again?”

“No!” He demands, as if clarifying that for himself as much as for me. He stands up and sits at my feet, looking up at me with regretful eyes. “It’ll just mean that we won’t see each other every day.” He breaks eye contact, “Maybe not for a couple months in between visits.”

I bounce off the swing into Rowan’s arms.

“Rowan.” I say, my voice crackling over every syllable.

“I’m so sorry.” He replies. He wraps his arms around me as the sky falls around us.

==========

This is undeniably the most heart wrenching day of my life. My mum seemed to know it was going to scar deep when I told her Rowan was moving away. I didn’t realise that it would bury itself so deep into my heart that it would feel as if it were imploding. A spastic drumline plays on repeat inside my chest as I watch the car drive away down the street, followed by a moving van containing everything I know of him. Except for this, except for this jumper.

This jumper was the one he was wearing when we met, it’s pale yellow from being washed so many times. I remember him coming up to me during lunch to offer me part of his cookie. I was crying from being rejected from yet another pack. Most kids are polite in making it clear they don’t want or need me but there was this very popular pack that my parents had caught wind of. They kept pushing me to introduce myself to the pack so one day I did. 

Then they bullied me, told me I was worthless and pathetic. Which looking back must have been something their parents told them to do because there’s no way a 7 year old knew the power of such cruel words without a bit of tutoring from their parents. I’ve never been so glad that it didn’t work out with a pack. Just imagining the Hell presenting would have been with them makes my chest ache. They would have been nothing like my Rowan. Just like his jumper he was soft and gentle. A soft soul.

Thinking of him makes the tears flow with invigorated life, I hold my nose to the fluffy fabric, I’ll never smell his burnt timber and rain in person ever again. My gut wrenches with intense sobs as my sister rushes over, grasping to hold me. Pulling me into a tight hug, one that made your gut ache with love and in this case sorrow.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers into my ear. “Remember though he promised to call you tonight.”

She prods at me, as if trying to provoke something other than an empty stare.

“Come inside.”

She tells me and tugs at my hand, pulling me through the door. Our parents follow after us and I hear them muttering about how horrible it was for Rowan's dad to break up such a young pack. 

I loved Rowan’s parents, they used to get me and Rowan popcorn for movie nights and they let us turn their whole living room inside out just to make blanket forts and dens. Whenever it was warm they’d take us to the park and spend hours out there with us just watching me and Rowan tear around.

They were nothing like my parents who used to complain if Rowan so much as stepped in the house with his shoes on. They were courteous but never welcoming. Whereas Rowan’s parents treated me like one of their own, mine just barely tolerated Rowan as a part of their lives. They seemed to only be nice because they knew there was no getting rid of him once we had bonded as a pack. Heaven forbid they break a pack bond and have no one turn up to their famous luncheons.

It feels surprising that it’s only just occurred to me they’re probably happy about this.

When I was five I remember them pushing me to hang out with the ‘classier’ packs, often sending me in with biscuits to prove I was a good provider. I also remember it never working because that's not how packs work, good packs are the ones formed with strong friendships not just by your social status. Rowan’s mum taught me that, a conversation is so clear in my mind even though it must have been years ago.

I was so upset that day when I arrived at Rowan’s, not nearly as upset as I am now. I can only just feel my face and even then it's just the heat of the swelling and tears. My dad had gotten angry when I said I wanted to have a sleepover around Rowan’s. He said that I was ungrateful for the bed they’d given me, told me that surely Rowan’s dump of a house wasn’t up to my standards of living. He told me he was going to find me someone more worthy. I screamed and cried at him and had run all the way to Rowan’s out of pure determination. I was so angry at him, so sad that I couldn't just have Rowan as my pack.

When I told Rowan’s mum this she’d just wrapped me up tight in a blanket and told me parents were silly sometimes and that he’d sure my dad wouldn’t mind me sleeping over next time but I had to go back at some point. She called Rowan down to keep me company while she called my dad to pick me up. 

Rowan brought me a chocolate bar from the kitchen and he turned on our favourite TV show. We stayed cuddled up until my dad came to pick me up. Me and Rowan were just about to untangle ourselves so I could go when Rowan's mum asked my dad to step into the kitchen. We could only make out parts of it but me and Rowan were so curious as to what was happening even our breathing was slowed so we could hear better. 

“It’s not fair on them to keep doing this, Richard.” Rowan’s mum says. “Can’t you see how happy they are? Don’t get up caught up in what you think is important and lose sight of what he wants.”

“This isn’t about what he wants Lucy.” He hisses her name and Rowan must feel how I stiffen against him because he holds his hands over my ears. At one point I try to take his hands away but he seems so scared and upset by what he’s hearing that I don't bother. I don’t think I wanted to know what my dad said about me and Rowan.

Even though I know some years after Rowan told me what my dad said, even though I know it wasn’t as bad as what he said in my mind. I know how scared I felt and how upset it made Rowan. I don’t think I ever fully forgave my dad for that and now that I'm in my room alone, with no pack in sight, I don’t think I ever will. 

It’s no one’s fault Rowan had to move. Well you could blame a hundred different people, you could blame Rowan’s dad’s company for folding, or blame our town for not having any jobs available or even Great Oshen for having a lower cost of living. It doesn’t matter who or what I blame, it just hurts. It hurts to know a person I was so close to is gone. A person that it is almost impossible to see due to the no going back approach my parents have taken. The only thing they’re allowing is a phone call.

Now that I say that the dull buzzing of crying is being overridden by a shrill ringing phone. My mother comes in with the landline and a solemn look on her face. She sits next to me as a tinny, robotic replication of Rowan’s voice floods my aching head.

“Elliot? Elliot? I miss you soooo much. This new house is so scary and even your blanket won’t make it warm. I miss your cuddles!”

My tears that had dried upon hearing Rowan now start streaming again. It was nice to imagine that even if I was miserable that Rowan was having fun with moving and that he could finally have the space themed bedroom he always wanted but he’s not. I never thought that it would hurt more because he was sad too.

It’s a hundred, million times worse. It hurts so much worse, before I thought that the feeling of needles being stabbed into my puffy eyes, the feel of glass prickling my skin and having my heart stomped on was bad. Now it wasn’t just me that was feeling that way, it was someone I loved to the moon and back as well. Something about the knowledge that he was hurting so much just broke what tender shred of sanity I had.

At some point I don't know who’s crying harder, me or the terrible replica of Rowan. I must fall asleep when my mum takes away the phone but it feels like the pain lasts far into the night. A never ending cycle of crying, falling asleep and waking up until my dad comes in to open my blinds. They don’t tell me I have to get up, there’s an implication when my sister tells me there’s pancakes downstairs but no one tells me to get up directly.

So I don't. My heart is so heavy it’s impossible to gather enough strength to lift it from my bed. I just lounge around hoping the pain will subside, but it never does. No matter how much I sob for him to come back, it doesn’t lull me into security and it doesn’t make the pain any less stabbing.

“Elliot.” I hear my father say, his voice so cold it makes me shiver, I don’t move. “Elliot.” He says again a little louder, I lift my head but my eyes are glued shut with dried tears; prying them open is like slicing a knife through my eyelids.

“You won’t be calling Rowan again. Ever.”

My head spins, what did he just say? I can’t even fathom the idea of never hearing his voice again, even the tinny robotic version would’ve been enough for me. I prepare myself to fall into another spiral, another whirlwind of sobs but nothing escapes from my gaping mouth and everything inside becomes empty. I stand up and walk over to his jumper, pushing my nose into it is the only thing that brings a little relief to the piercing pain inside my chest. This the last thing I have of his, the only part of him that’ll ever remain mine.


End file.
